Eiric
by MadMadchen
Summary: After a tragedy, Eiric Reilly moves to Baker Street. What was the tragedy? What will happen after she moves in? How is she tied to Sherlock? Does she even know she's tied to him? Sherlock/OC
1. A Scandal in Flat 221C

Hands were everywhere. They were all she was aware of as she led this strange man up two flights of stairs by his t-shirt. They were on her sides, her ass, her boobs, all at once. She unlocked her flat, keeping her lips connected to his the whole time. She kicked the door closed with her high heel as he picked her up. He dropped her on the couch and took off his shirt as she shrugged out of her dress easily. He pulled off her shoes while she rid herself of her hair pins. She hadn't bothered with a bra before going out. She undid his belt and he slid off her lace panties. They hadn't bothered with names at the pub, but she saw the engraved name on the inside of his belt. Brian. She froze, memories of blood, lots of blood, filled her. Brian continued toying with her breasts. He lifted her and tried to carry her to what he assumed was the bedroom before, in his drunken state, he dropped her. He heard footsteps pounding up the stairs and hurriedly buttoned his pants, the woman on the ground seeming dazed from hitting her head on the wooden flooring. The door burst open as Brian was grabbing his shirt and belt from the couch and he dashed past the man standing outside the door.

* * *

Sherlock Holmes was poking around at a jar full of eyeballs when he heard the door to 221 open. He thought nothing of it as Mrs. Hudson had told him a couple days ago that there was someone moving in upstairs. There had been movers over the next two days and he had heard furniture being moved around. The new tenant must have been arriving now. He heard two sets of clumsy feet going up the stairs. Flat mates coming home from a pub maybe. Sherlock ignored it until he heard the door slam and scuffling, the scuffling subsided for a moment before a huge thump came from just above his head. Murder? Attempted murder? A new case all his own? Sherlock ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He swung the unlocked door open as a man ran under his arm and down the stairs. Sherlock was torn between catching the guy and poking around the flat for evidence. He was scanning the flat when he happened upon a pair of women's shoes and what seemed to be a hastily discarded dress. He continued his initial scan and found a woman beginning to sit up on the floor, looking dazed. Their eyes met.

"Well, I'm assuming you're my new neighbor. Sorry we're meeting like this, it's a bit embarrassing," the woman said with a slight Scottish undertone. It was only when she had finished speaking that he noticed she was completely naked.

* * *

John was just coming home from a night at the pub with little success at finding a date when a man pulling his shirt on ran by him and out the front door. Someone must have gotten lucky tonight. He groaned as he trudged up the first flight of steps before pausing at the door when he heard a voice from upstairs. The new tenant must have moved in. The man running out the door suddenly made even more sense to him. He must have been up there. He chuckled at himself, dropping his keys in a bowl.

"Sherlock, when did the new tenant get here?" He called.

No answer.

"Sherlock?"

Again, no voice from the flat. He heard floorboards creak on the next landing as if someone was shifting their weight. John went to investigate and saw his flat mate standing in the doorway of the upstairs unit. As John was ascending the stairs, Sherlock walked in the and the door shut. This might not turn out well, and John knew that very well, but after a night of rejection, he was tired. He could pick up the pieces in the morning with a bit if help from Mrs. Hudson.

* * *

"Well, come on in. I'll just be a moment," the woman said, standing up and walking towards the bck of the room to what Sherlock assumed was the bedroom.

He examined the room. All of the furniture was new. The hardwood floor was covered with a couple of rugs, a striped one directly in front of the door and an orange one in what seemed to be a seating area. The couch was green and the armchairs, separated by an end table, were a white, sitting on the orange rug with an round coffee table in the middle. Bookcases lined the wall next to the little alcove that housed the door to the assumed bedroom. On the wall adjacent to the door, there was a desk with a new desktop computer with a green desk chair. Sherlock entered the flat, his examination taking him only seconds, and sat on on of the armchairs, across from the couch with a view of the bedroom door. There were a few posters of famous women. Sherlock's eyes fell upon a poster of British actress and humanitarian, Audrey Hepburn.

"Ah, I see you've met Ms. Hepburn. Pretty great, isn't she?" the woman asked, coming in in a pair of what Sherlock understood as yoga pants and a tank top, a common leisure outfit among women, but also used for exercise.

"Yes, and I understand why you have a poster of her, considering your line of work. Actress. I am Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective," he said, standing and holding out his hand. She accepted and shook it.

"Eiric Reilly, and as you said, I'm an actress. Although, at this point, I have taken a break from film, and now I'm working with the Yard. How did you know I'm an actress? Seen any of my work?"she asked, smiling hopefully. Sherlock inspected her, looking at her hands, which were now folded together, her elbows resting on her crossed legs, feet under her.

"No, I expect you're small time, TV movies or mini series. Just getting started, maybe two years into your career. But if you are so new, why would you not be searching for more work on screen, why go to the Yard to work, I'm assuming undercover? And why would they hire an actress instead of an agent who had police experience? Do you even know how to shoot a gun?" Sherlock asked. The woman's hands had fading calluses. Most likely from working on a farm. There was also a scar on the skin between her thumb and forefinger, a month old, the injury had healed recently and required stitches. Four days ago, that was when they were removed.

"Yeah, a smal role in an American show about the playboy club, only took a month and a half, the show got cancelled soon after. Went on to play a stewardess, again, American television, didn't play well with the other girls. Biggest role I ever had was as a secondary character in Doctor Who one episode. I haven't been looking for screen work because I would rather be helping people than strutting around in front of a camera. They hired me because I'm damn good at improv and I'm one hell of a shot. Growing up on a farm with a drunk daddy and sheep that need protecting make you learn how to shoot at a young age."

"What happened to your hand? How did you cut it?" Sherlock saw her shift back only to spring up from her seat.

"Damned hair pins. I broke a vase. Do you mind dogs? My parents are bringing over Oliver, my Shepard in a couple days."

"How did you break the vase?"

"Dropped it. How do you feel about dogs?"

"You're lying. You babbled on about your career, which isn't really all that impressive, but when I asked for a possibly interesting story behind a vase, you obviously don't want to talk about how that vase was broken or why? You moved and you moved hurriedly. Running from a situation, probably with a boyfriend. Tell me, how was that vase broken? Was he a cheater? Liar? What was it?"

"Murderer."


	2. A Study in Redheads

"Murderer and a cheater, pedophile is just one of many more names I could give him," she snarled.

"This just got very very interesting. Go on, tell me about it," Sherlock grinned madly.

"Are you sane?"

"Perfectly." He looked at her expectantly. She heaved a sigh and started pulling at her hair. She pulled her hands away, shook them, and started pulling her hair up into a bun, using the pins she had sat on. Sherlock surveyed the room again and found bowls full of hair ties and pins located on almost every surface as well as strands of red hair by the bowls, as if she sometimes had to pull once before preventing it. A mild case of trichotillomania, controlled by pulling the hair back and therefore preventing pulling. He had triggered some stress in her, hit a nerve, so to speak.

"We were in the barn helping Dolly with her first lamb. The babe was backwards and we needed all hands on deck, Brian and Sal went back to the house for more blankets. They were taking a while so Da told me teh go find 'em," she paused, taking a deep breath before continuing, her accent deliberately thinned. "She was laying in her bed. She was sixteen, the baby of the family. She was naked and bound by the wrists to her bed, throat torn to bits. He was in our room, my room, packing, taking anything of value. The weapon was on my teddy bear. What kind of man puts the bloody knife he just killed a girl with on a child's toy? Brian saw me, picked up the knife, and came at me. I took the vase he gave me flowers in when we got to the house, hit him over the head with it, and sliced his throat with the shard. He got my hand on the way down."

"Why not just say that in the first place?"

"Well, it's not like I enjoy reliving the rape and murder of my baby sister and killing my boyfriend. Can we stop talking about this?" Her hands flew to her hair. She brought them down again and sat on them. She really was under stress. Her face did not betray it, but the urge to pull was building by the second. She bit her lip. "Excuse me, I need the loo," she went back to the alcove and entered the bedroom, it had an attached bath. He followed. She was sitting on the closed toilet, pulling out strands of her hair, tears rolling down her face.

"What are you doing here? What did you see?" She was getting defensive, angry even.

"Just confirming your trichotillomania. Going by the health of your hair, it's only started recently, around a month before what happened to your sister. You knew something was brewing in him. You knew, but you stayed and took him to meet your family. You blame yourself,"he examined her carefully.

"I didn't know," she wailed, she collapsed into herself, she was having some sort of attack. Her pupils were quickly dilating. She stood and pushed him gently.

"I want you out of my flat, please."

He didn't move.

"Please leave."

"You're having some sort of attack, does this happen often?"

"Leave now," her voice was rising. She hit his chest, not hard, but still firmly enough to make him jolt a bit. She was sobbing

"Get out!" she slammed her fists against his chest, forcing him back and continued doing that, pushing him out the door and slamming that in his face.

So, that was Eiric Reilly. The actress Lestrade had hired. The little girl he had met, many years ago.


	3. The Blind Actress

_They were running, hand in hand. Eiric was smiling, before they fell. They kept falling and falling, down the rabbit hole. Sherlock desperately tried to cling to his friend. He had promised Aaron he would keep her safe._

Sherlock sat up slowly. He hadn't had that dream since he was a child. Well, it wasn't so much a dream as a dramatization of a past event. They had run, hand in hand, and they had fallen, just not so slowly. They had only met once, when they were seven. They had gone out to play, adn she had been leading him along the edge of a ravine, running. The grass was still slick with dew, and they had slipped, tumbling down to the bottom. She hit her head just the wrong way and... She slept for two months, and by then, Sherlock had gone home to his family.

Both the Holmes and Reilly families were wealthy and the two families had been allied since medieval times, sometimes marrying into each other to strengthen the bond. These marriages were almost always arranged and one had been arranged between himself and Eiric. Yes, it was old fashioned, but, it was also an excuse for Sherlock to refuse romantic relationships. He wasn't what you'd call an extrovert, rather extremely introverted, but excitable. This made dating a bit difficult for him, espescially since he couldn't ever seem to tell when enough was enough. So, he had the excuse of a fiance when he needed it, and he wasn't lying. Eiric was a nice girl as well, smart, patient, and kind, as he remembered her.

Eventually marrying her wouldn't be too much of an inconvenience, but there was one major problem. She had no memory of him or his family. The fall had wiped him from her memory and she only had vague memories of some family that was somehow tied to hers but they didn't see them often. Both Sherlock's father and Eiric's father decided it was best for Eiric to grow up away from the Holmes family. Sherlock himself had no clue as to why. Eiric had been his first real friend, he hadn't gotten on well with other children of his age at his school, but the little red-headed girl showed the uptight boy how to have fun in the two weeks he had stayed with them, but after her fall, he drew farther into himself.

* * *

Eiric woke up the next morning completely naked with her pillow tear-soaked and her scalp sore. She could see tens of her red hairs laying in a pile on the nightstand before she rolled over in her blue sheets, curling and uncurling her toes. She heaved a sigh before getting up, taking a shower, and looking for some clothes in the boxes lying about the room.

While all of her other things were here a day or so in advance, Eiric had to bring in her clothes the day she arrived at Baker Street. Eventually, she found a halfway decent outfit consisting of a pair of skinny jeans, a denim button down, a cream sweater and matching hat, and her favorite pair of leather boots along with the matching jacket. She still had her ivy ear cuff on, as always, so she just slapped on a ring and cameo necklace, and she was ready for her errands.

As she headed out the door to her flat, she grabbed her messenger bag from the bean bag chair that sat in the corner of her front room. As she passed the flat on the second floor landing, Eiric heard a loud _bang _before the door burst open and the man from last night stumbled out the door in front of her.

"Ah, hello,Sherlock, isn't it?" Eiric said awkwardly. The man did a double take.

"Yes, and you are Miss Reilly. Where are you going? You're too dressed up to be running to the market. Early morning date? Doesn't really seem to be your 'style'," Sherlock snapped He had no idea why he felt so offended that she seemed to be going on a date, she didn't even know she was engaged to him.

"No, um, I mean, dating has never really been my style. No that makes me sound like slag. Um, Brian, the guy that I was with when I got the scar, he was my first and hopefully last boyfriend. Anyway, I'm actually going to a work thing and then the library, and after that, I don't know. I'll just see where the day takes me." she sighed the last part. Sherlock's face scrunched. How could she not have a plan past getting a library card. And why would she need a library card, she had at least four floor to ceiling bookshelves in her apartment filled with books of all varieties, though there was one shelf that seemed dedicated to literature that had been translated into film. That only made sense, seeing as she was an actress though, to study literature for possible future roles in remakes.

"Alright. Good day," Sherlock said shortly, deciding to keep his thoughts to himself as he made to step back into the flat.

"Hey, um actually, I don't know the city all that well, and I was wondering if you or your flatmate, yes, I know you have a flatmate, Mrs. Hudson told me about him, know where to find Wanda's Cafe?" Eiric asked, resting a hand on his forearm. This gesture sent a strange thrill through Sherlock that he had only felt two times before and read about in poorly written erotica he had stumbled upon before realizing his mistake in choosing that particular book. He had had _that _urge under control for 17 years. Fourteen had been a hard age for him.

"Sherlock can take you there," John's voice sounded. He had been there the whole time and had shoved Sherlock out the door after he had filled him in on everything, including the engagement, and now John was intrigued to see how Sherlock would act around someone he knew he would one day be sharing a bed with. Well, maybe not a bed, but at least a bank account. In fact, John had shoved him out to get him upstairs and apologizing to Eiric. Sherlock shot John a look. He wanted nothing to do with this woman right now, especially after how she had kicked him out of her apartment last night. But, he had to keep a good relationship with her. Mycroft would kill him if he screwed this up.

"Lovely. Just let me get my coat," Sherlock gave Eiric a small lip twitch that could count as a smile.

"Shall we, then," Eiric suggested as he returned. Sherlock gave a small nod in response and the two headed down the stairs and out the front door. John leaned against the door frame to his flat, grinning. He was totally going to take advantage of this secret engagement thing and get Sherlock to treat Eiric nicely. She seemed to be a nice girl, and he wanted his best friend to be happy, even if Sherlock didn't know how to be just yet.


	4. The Mystery of the Library Card

Walking through the streets of London with Sherlock Holmes was an...interesting experience, to say the least. He had ridiculously long legs and a quick stride, so the usual easy going stroll that Eiric usually moved at was quickly abandoned in favor of not being left behind in the large city. In addition to the brisk pace, Sherlock took some creative shortcuts, speed-walking down alleys and hopping over fences. He was also very quiet and Eiric was almost sure he had forgotten her presence all together until they reached the cafe and he looked back at her.

"I'm sure you can manage from here. Mrs. Hudson has given you my phone number, I'm sure, so if you need something, hesitate before calling," Sherlock gave her a sarcastic lip twitch and turned to leave. As he turned, he caught her smile. Why was she smiling? Most people he encountered wouldn't have smiled at that. He continued down the street before looping back and settling at a different cafe across the street. She was still waiting for whoever she was meeting, he had gotten her there early. Both finished two cups of tea before Lestrade and Donovan arrived at Wanda's.

* * *

"Ah, hello there, Miss Reilly."

Eiric turned and saw the man she had spoken to over Skype a few days ago. He looked around fifty and was a deal shorter than she thought he would be. There was a woman walking beside him with the most wonderful mocha skin she had ever seen and ridiculously curly hair.

"You must be Lestrade! Hi, it's wonderful to meet you in person," Eiric flashed a bright, charming smile. She looked to Donovan.

"Oh, right, this is Sergent Donovan."

"Hi, it's wonderful to meet you as well Sergent."

"Please, just call me Donovan, we will be working together after all."

* * *

The meeting continued, Lestrade and Donovan going over the rules of the office and the hours Eiric would be asked to spend there, along with some basic 'getting to know you' kinds of things. The meeting was over within the hour and, after Donovan and Lestrade had left, Eiric called Sherlock. He waited three rings to answer,

"Hello?"

"Hey, Sherlock. I was wondering if you were free to show me to the library. I'm a bit lost from your...creative shortcutting," Eiric gave a little laugh. Sherlock felt his lip twitch. Her laugh had stayed the same over the last twenty years.

"Give me five minutes," he huffed, trying to sound put out. They hung up. Sherlock retraced the path he took to the cafe. When he arrived, Eiric smiled at him again.

"Hey. I just remembered, I never apologized for kicking you out like that last night. I was overemotional and you didn't really do anything but try to help, I guess," she offered a sheepish smile and a hand. He shook it, as a way of accepting the apology, before turning abruptly, dropping her hand in the process, and heading toward the nearest library.

"Here we are, the neighborhood library. Don't see why you would need this place."

"It's nice to have a place to get books for free. Paying for them gets bothersome, and having too many in the house is a bad idea. If there's a fire, all that money will have gone to waste, and if you have too many, they could provide an obstacle when trying to escape. It's logical to have a library card," Eiric said, smiling up at the strange man. He reminded her of someone, but she couldn't quite place who. It had to be someone form before she was nine, she had catalogued everyone after that. Put them in a room in her face hotel. It was a trick someone had taught her before she had her accident, the one that caused her father to drink, the one that stressed her mother into an early grave.

Her face became somber, thinking of her mother. Sherlock noted this and looked at her curiously. She was miles away form him, even if he could reach out and touch her. It was the face she had made when he taught her about the Mind Palace, or in her case, the Main Street. He remembered clearly how she had described the place.

_"What does the Main Street look like, Eir?" Sherlock used the pet name he had come up with. Eiric's eyes were closed as they sat across from each other on her bed, his hands resting on her shoulders and hers on his knees._

_"It's a cobbled road, there's a hotel, a cafe, and lots of shops. The hotel is where everyone I've ever met stays. My family runs it. You get the best room, of course," she smiled and opened one eye to look at him. He smiled before gently blowing on her face to get her to close it._

_"What do you keep in the cafe?"_

_"That's where I keep all the foods I've eaten. And how to make cookies. There are menus, they each have titles too. My favorite foods, gross foods, mom's favorite foods, everyone has their own menu of favorites and least favorites. And there are empty books. I'll write down the recipes in there. How to make foods and other things."_

_"What about the shops?"_

_"Well, there's a trinket shop, and in there are little things and when I pick them up, I can see a memory. Like when I pick up these blue mittens, all the things we've done so far, like herding the chickens, play in front of my eyes," she paused for a moment to laugh at the memory. They had been asked to put the chickens back into the coop and pretended to be cowboys, herding up cows for a roundup. Sherlock laughed as well and before long, they were clutching their sides, exploring the mental street long forgotten._

Sherlock wanted to chuckle at the memory, but felt it wrong to interrupt the somber moment Eiric was having. He reached out and gently touched her hand with a finger before snatching his back.

"Sorry, memories can be funny things. Snatching someone away from reality for a moment," she smiled apologetically before turnig and starting up the stairs. Sherlock followed. "I thought libraries were useless."

"You've changed my mind. I have too many books."

Eiric smiled again as they made their way up the stairs. Being around Sherlock Holmes was proving to be interesting as well as a bit fun.


	5. The Hound of Baker Street

As they were making their way towards the help desk, a man short, attractive man approached the odd, pale, pair.

"HI, my name is Kyle and I'm a volunteer here at the library. Are you new here?" the man, Kyle apparently, asked, directing the question to Eiric.

"Hello, I'm Eiric, and I am new here, in fact."

"Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective," Sherlock said, stepping slightly in front of her, trying to get it across to the man's subconscious that Eiric was taken, even if she didn't exactly remember that they had been promised to each other when they were children. Or that they knew each other before yesterday. The guy didn't seem to catch the hint though.

"Yes, hello," he shot Sherlock a strained smile before stepping into a position where he had a full view of Eiric. "I was wondering if you would like the grand tour, mi'lady."

"Oh, mi'lady, is it? Sure, a tour sounds...nice," Eiric sounded uncomfortable. She looked to Sherlock, hoping that he wouldn't leave her with the overbearing flirt. She knew that she could have turned him down, but her slight social anxiety and polite nature made it hard to deny the man's very kind offer, even if it was a bit creepy.

"Right this way!" Kyle beamed.

* * *

After an excruciating tour, Eiric and Sherlock bid farewell to Kyle. Well, mostly Eiric. Sherlock just kind of stalked off with a book about the solar system, muttering something about 'showing John.'

"Hello, could I just get a card and check these out, please?" Eiric said to the librarian, placing a few novels that were rumored to have pending movie contracts. Most were probably badly written young adult supernatural books, but a few looked interesting.

"Here you are. Thank you for coming," the librarian droned, not sounding thankful at all. Eiric smiled widely at the woman, holding back a glare. She was probably just having a bad day. She turned to find Sherlock waiting for her at the door and scooped the books into her bag before sliding the card into a slot built into the bag and rushing out with Sherlock following.

"Anything else?" Sherlock asked, still having to force sounding put out. Even though their tour guide had been insufferable, Sherlock had enjoyed his outing with the ginger. He had enjoyed slipping sneaky snide comments into the non-stop ramble Kyle had thrown at Eiric, and even caught her giggling after one of his comments.

"Not unless you have anything you need to do. I mean, it would make sense that if you had anything to do, I would tag along, because I still need you to get me home, and for efficiencies sake, it would only be logical if I went with you instead of you taking me home and then running off to do what it was you needed to do," Eiric rambled. She had started to find Sherlock's personality more appealing as they spent more time together. His comments while Kyle flirted with her kept her sane and echoed her own thoughts. After having read a bit of John's blog and a few news articles about him, she was prepared to walk around with a machine but so far, she hadn't seen much that was machine-like. Yes, he was a bit odd, but not a machine.

"We could stop by Tesco and get some milk. John's always going on about it," Sherlock shrugged.

"Okay, I should probably grab some food as well. All the cabinets are empty," Eiric had planned on getting a cab to go grocery shopping but walking with Sherlock sounded more enjoyable. So, off they went.

* * *

Eiric was examining some apples, looking for a ripe one to eat with her breakfast when Sherlock walked up, a pint of milk and carton of eggs in his basket, looking very odd in his pressed suit. Eiric readjusted her hat nervously. He was handsome, especially compared to all the men in grungy clothes meandering around the shop.

"Ready?" she asked, clearing her throat. Sherlock nodded and they went to separate cashiers, meeting at the exit once more. Eiric readied herself for another brisk walk but the journey home was a bit closer to her usual pace, thankfully, but still quiet.

* * *

Sherlock and Eiric gave each other quick farewells at his door and she continued up the stairs to her flat. Sherlock watched her go before entering his flat, feeling relieved that she had been uncomfortable with Kyle's flirting. He was also feeling a strange, unfamiliar feeling. When she had looked at him in the shop, her pupils had dilated and her face had flushed. She had been aroused by or at least attracted to him. The way she had cleared her throat and her voice had confirmed it. She liked him, it was obvious. Now he just had to get her to love him. That was the traditional way to start a marriage between two people. He had to marry her, or else he'd never hear the end of it from his mother and Mycroft.

* * *

Eiric was putting away her groceries, music blasting from the living room, and danced around her kitchen, singing along. Spending time with Sherlock had been surprisingly fun, in a weird way. She was just closing up all the cabinets when she heard the doorbell ring from downstairs. She checked her phone and sure enough, there was a text from Bonni, her step-mother. She rushed down the stairs in her socks, slipping a bit on the first floor landing. Sherlock and John's door opened and Sherlock stepped out.

"You can go back upstairs, it's a client," he informed her.

"No, it's not. It's for me."

She rushed down the stairs, Sherlock looking after her. Eiric threw the door open and flung herself into her father's arms as the man at the top of the stairs watched, shocked at the very sudden and aggressive affection. Eiric pulled back from her father and Sherlock got a good look at the man who was in his late fifties with black hair spattered with gray here and there. Eiric ushered him in and he was followed by a blonde woman, ten years the man's junior. He knew this woman. Her name was Bonni Muir-Reilly. She was an accomplished neurosurgeon. Of course Eiric's father, Aaron Reilly, had a career as a web designer, and quite a successful one who had a background in advertising. He was nothing to sneeze at, even compared to the neurosurgeon who had been a pioneer in many surgical expeditions in slowing Alzheimer's.

"Dad! I'm so glad to see you! How's Ian? Have you heard from Brody or Bryston recently? How's Sasha doing without her? Has Penni been alright with her? Please tell me she's been a good girl! Ah! Ollie! Hi buddy!" At this point, Eiric bent and pet a mass of black with a wagging tail and lolling pink tongue. The fur barked happily.

"Great, doing well in school. No, you should have with them both living in the city. Sasha is fine. Penni is being an angel, a model big sister, but she misses you. I missed you, lamb, but I did not miss your questioning. Always trying to know what's going on, you curious cat," Aaron smiled down at his daughter, wrapping her in his arms again. Then he passed her to his wife, taking the dog's lead from her. The two women shared a hug and "I missed you"'s. Eiric then turned to see Sherlock still standing on the landing watching the scene play out in the entryway.

"Bonni, Dad, Oliver, this is Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock these lovely people are my father -"

"Aaron Reilly, web designer, and stepmother Bonni Muir-Reilly, neurosurgeon. Pleasure to meet you both," Sherlock cast a meaningful glance at Aaron, letting the man know that he was indeed the same Sherlock Holmes he had promised his daughter to when she was seven and he was eight. Aaron gave him a smile, a genuine smile that Sherlock hardly ever saw from anyone. The Reilly family just seemed to smile a lot. Eiric had almost constantly had an unconscious smile on her face the entire day and he had heard her upstairs, dancing, no doubt with a goofy grin on her face.

"Ah, you're that consulting detective. I've read your blog, I really liked the one about the Aluminium Crutch," Bonni smiled. Sherlock made a noise of distaste. That was John's silly blog. Sherlock's website was much more informative with its guide to identifying perfumes. For example, Bonni, though her family had quite a bit of money, was wearing drugstore perfume that smelled like vanilla. And Eiric wore no perfume yet she still smelled of sandalwood and jasmine. The jasmine scent came from her hair, by the way it's strength increased when she moved her head so it came from her shampoo. This meant that the sandalwood scent came from her body wash or lotion. Perhaps both. Aaron wore a posh cologne that he was obviously all too aware of as his nose wrinkled slightly every time he moved. It was a gift, most likely from his wife, the way she leaned in to smell it. It smelled like lemons.

"That would be John's blog, full of useless information," Sherlock scoffed. Just at that moment, John walked down stairs from the single room upstairs. It was a bit of an awkward place for a bedroom, joining immediately into the stairwell and very near to Eiric's flat door.

"At least people read my blog. Hello, did I hear that you were Eiric's parents? John Watson," John came down the next flight of stairs to shake Aaron and Bonni's hands and let Oliver give his hand a sniff and a lick. John ruffled his ears.

"Two handsome men? Well, we may just have to send Ian out her for university to protect you," Bonni winked at Eiric and smiled foxily at said men. John blushed and Sherlock shifted uncomfortably. She obviously didn't know of his engagement to her step-daughter.

"Shall I show you around upstairs?" Eiric saved the day by taking her parents and pet up the two flights of stairs, giving John and Sherlock smiles as she passed.

* * *

"So, here it is, my humble abode, mi casa, meine Hause," Eiric smiled, gesturing around the brightly furnished flat. Bonni and Aaron went about the place, inspecting it.

There was an open place right by the front door that housed a large beanbag and projector screen, a projector hanging from the ceiling. Beside the beanbag was a room divider and behind the room divider was a sort of office, desk, computer, chair, other various office appliances. On the left hand side there was an umbrella stand and a sitting area that was situated around a whiteboard and oval coffee table. There was a dresser behind the sofa which held a few blankets. A bike rested between it and the wall. A fishbowl rested on a filing cabinet and held a small goldfish, a house warming gift from Brodie. In the space behind the couch, there was a round dining table with four chairs and on the wall behind that, there was a door and three bookshelves. The room had six walls and, counting them viewing from the front door, starting on the left, the fourth wall, which viewed the dining table and behind the sliding glass doors was a simple kitchen with blue cabinets, an extra mini-freezer, a piano, and a guitar. Under the window on the farthest wall sat a yoga mat and adjacent to the at sat a metal folding chair. Behind the door on the back wall of the main living space was the bedroom. It was a long room, like the kitchen, and the width barely accommodated the length of the bed and the fireplace. Between the two was a narrow walking space. If one was to stand in this walking space, they would see a plum wing-backed chair on the left side, accompanied by a small wooden chest and a bedside table. Across the room, or on the right side of the fireplace, stood two chests of drawers, each six drawers high, but one was thinner than the other. On the left side of the fireplace, there was a stack of wood, a plant, and a chaise lounge with a couple of squeaky toys. Oliver came in the room and lay down on the furniture, knowing this was his new bed. On the right side of the bed, there was a bedside table and a pocket door, leading into a simple bathroom. An elliptical machine stood in near the chaise lounge and faced one of the two windows in that room, the other being directly over the lounge.

"Nice place, Eir Bear," Aaron complimented. The family was sitting in the living room, Eiric on the overstuffed, sea green sofa with Oliver at her feet, and her parents on the matching purple armchairs across from her. Aaron had a mug of tea on the side table between the two of them while Eiric and Bonni each had a glass of water sitting on the coffee table.

"Thanks, although I may have gone a little crazy on the furnishings. Ollie seems to like it though, and so does Swindle," she smiled, gesturing to the goldfish as he swam about lazily. Bonni grinned before standing and finishing her water. Aaron finished his tea before standing. They needed to leave, Eiric knew that, but she didn't want them to leave. Not without her. Yes, she was almost thirty years old, but she still needed them. She would be lying if she said she didn't have nightmares that turned her into a small child that just wanted to be held. Plus, it was only her second night in a new home, and for the first time she was living alone. Before she had lived with Brian, she lived with Brodie, and before that, Bryston had lived with them.

"Well, we should get going. It'll be too dark for my old eyes to see if we don't hit the road soon," Aaron joked. He walked around the table and hugged his daughter. He hated to leave her, but he had sheep to tend to and Bonni had people to save. Granted, it would be dark eventually no matter what time they left, but the earlier they got home, the more sleep they got. He gave Eiric another tight squeeze before releasing her.

"I'll walk you guys out," she said, tears in her voice. They waited for her to put on the boots she had worn earlier that day, but she didn't bother tying them. As they walked out, leaving Oliver upstairs, Sherlock and John's kitchen door opened and John stepped out. He followed them down the stairs and out the front door. Eiric was saying her goodbyes and hugging each of her parents tightly before they got in the car and left. Eiric turned to go back inside once they were out of sight and saw John, standing on the stoop, trying to seem like he wasn't watching.

"How long have you been there?" she was crying. Not sobbing, but her eyes definitely weren't just watering. She walked to stand near John.

"Long enough, I guess," he moved to walk onto the street, but heard Eiric begin to sob. He turned and awkwardly patted her shoulder as she broke down. She moved to rest her head on John's shoulder and wrapped her arms around him. He put his arms around her awkwardly. She didn't know what it was about him, maybe his tone in his blogs, but she trusted the army doctor already. And her trust had been hard to earn as of late. The two stood there for a while, in the gathering darkness, until Eiric's tears had run dry.

"Thank you, John," Eiric said as she pulled away. He smiled at her and rubbed her arm soothingly. Just as Eiric had wrapped her arms around John in a friendlier hug, instead of the needy one it had been earlier, the front door burst open to reveal a slightly rumpled Sherlock Holmes.

"Where have the two of you been?"

"Just out here," John answered, the doctor was obviously slightly upset at the intrusion, but highly amused at the worry his friend had just displayed. It was well hidden now, of course, but it had been there. The ice-man was starting to melt from prolonged exposure to the fiery red-head.

* * *

**A/N**

**So, I've been working on this chapter for what feels like forever, and I must say, I am kind of proud of it. I'm also very happy with the followers that seem to have come from nowhere over these past, two (three?) weeks. I'm doing this new thing, where I'm trying to make each chapter at least 2000 words long, and for a few chapters it'll be 2500 words minimum to make up for the short chapters we've had in the past. Please leave me a review and suggest things you want to see happen. I have a few ideas and I even have some chapters written for much later down the line. SO make my day, give me an idea, and leave a review. Also, if I don't have two reviews per chapter, you won't get a new chapter until I do. I'm evil, so this number may rise. Mwahahahaha**


	6. The First Game

Friday, 11:28pm, and Eiric was sitting in her flat, alone, save for her faithful dog, laying with his head on her feet as she watched a movie on her laptop. An empty wine glass lay by her as she busied her hands with mending one of her shirts. A button had come loose and she really loved that denim shirt. She could hear Sherlock's voice drifting up through the floor.

"No, no no, nooooo, of course he's not the boy's father! Look at the turn-ups on his jeans!"

After a moment of silence she stood, disturbing Ollie. He huffed and trotted into the bedroom. She heard the tell-tale sigh that signaled he had gotten onto his lounge. _I'll just pop down and see what's got Sherlock so riled up. _She padded silently down the stairs, absently twirling a piece of her hair. John was on his way out of their living room, talking to Sherlock about risotto, milk, and beans.

"Hm," Sherlock grunted, narrowing his eyes. John turned smiled absently at Eiric, and went down the stairs with an astounded look on his face. Apparently, Sherlock doing the shopping was rare. _Not something I would have guessed. I mean, a couple of days ago we went to the shop and he looked perfectly at ease. Of course, he always does. _Eiric stood in the doorway, her hand still twirling her hair, but inching closer to the scalp.

"Going shopping, then?"

Sherlock ignored her, keeping his gaze on the telly. The front door opened and closed as Eiric stood, watching Sherlock. He glanced at her before grabbing his laptop and hurriedly opening it. He typed something up, paused, then continued typing.

_Swoosh._

An e-mail. He looked up at the telly and stroked his lip absently.

"I'm guessing you're going into that deep, broody mood you get sometimes. Not very good company, so I'll just head upstairs." His eyes flickered to her and he seemed almost apologetic, before he looked back at the screen and was lost once again.

* * *

When Eiric had reached the door to her flat, Ollie was scratching at it insistently. _He must need a wee._ Eiric opened the door and used her leg to keep him from rushing out, grabbed the lead form the umbrella stand, and hooked him up. The pair headed out after she shouted to Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson that she should be back in fifteen minutes, not really thinking they'd care, but mostly to be sure someone noticed if she went missing.

* * *

As she continued her stroll with Ollie after he did his business, she noticed a black car following her. After hearing John's tale of his meeting Mycroft Holmes, the logical assumption was that it was Anthea or some other person working under him. She slowed and the car pulled up. A man with dark hair and sunglasses rolled down the window.

"Get in," he ordered. She obeyed, Mycroft must use a person of the opposite gender for everyone. Ollie hopped in the car and awkwardly stood over her lap.

* * *

Sherlock walked cautiously into the pool, the heels of his shoes thunking against the tile floor. He had left minutes after he heard Eiric call that she would be out. Mrs. hudson was most definitely asleep by now, having taken her soothers. He played with the memory stick in his hands in a mixture of nerves and excitement. He looked around the area, searching for anything out of the ordinary, but also waiting. When it was clear he was expected to make the first move he turned towards the pool and held up the drive.

"Brought you a little getting to know you present. Oh it's what it's all been for, isn't it? All your little puzzles, making me dance. All to distract me from this." He paused between the first three sentences, but rushed into the last one, slowly turning on the spot. A door opened behind him and he jerked his head around...

_John._

"Evening," John said smoothly aster a moment of silence. He was blinking rapidly. "This is a turn-up, isn't it, Sherlock?"

"John. What the hell-?" Sherlock's voice caught.

"Bet you never saw this coming." John's voice faltered. He could her a feminine groan on the other side of the line. Sherlock approached. John took the bulky coat in his hands and showed his flatmate the bomb strapped around his middle. "what would you like me to make him say next?" A red dot appeared on his chest as Sherlock took a few more steps forward.

"Gothelagear, gothelagear, gothelagear-"

"Stop it," Sherlock was tired of this messing around. John wasn't meant to be involved in this part of the game.

"Nice touch, this. The pool, where little Carl died. I stopped him, I can stop John Watson too," he looked down at the red dot, both to prove a point, and because the damned thing was causing his heart to race and throat to close. A muffled cry came over the communicator in his ear. "Stop his heart."

"Who are you?" Sherlock was having a difficult time controlling the emotion in his voice. Another door opened.

"I gave you my number. I thought you might call," a ragged voice called across the room. Eiric stood in the door way to the pool, a dark haired, dark eyed man stood behind her, looking almost like a child hiding behind his mother. Sherlock studied her, looking for signs of a struggle. The only thing he noticed was a slight rumpling of her bun, but that seemed common for her. _No._ The man smirked at the evident shock and hurt and fear on the detective's face before shoving the red-head gently through the door and farther into the pool room. Tears ran down her face as a red dot appeared on her head and the man followed her through the door and escorted her closer to the other men.

"Is that a British army Brownning L9A1 in your pocket, or are you just pleased to see us?" the man spoke confidently from behind the woman. Eiric's shoulders shook as she tried to contain her panicked sobs. He stopped.

"Both," Sherlock drew his gun and pointed it at the two. Eiric made a strangled noise.

"Jim Moriarty, hi," he lilted. Eiric tried to shift away, but he grabbed one of her hands and fiddled with a black band on her wrist. A red light turned on. She made another noise and looked at Sherlock as if she were trying to apologize. Moriarty began his advance again. "Jim, Jim from the hospital? Ehh, huh, I really made such a fleeting impression? But, then I suppose, that was rather the point. Don't be silly, someone else is holding the rifle. I don't like to get my hands dirty. I've given you a glimpse, Sherlock, just a teensy glimpse, of what I've got going on out there in the big, bad world. I'm a specialist, you see. Like you."

"Dear Jim, please will you fix it for me to get rid of my sister's nasty lover? Dear Jim, please will you fix it for me to disappear to South America?" Sherlock managed to sound pleading and condescending at the same time.

"Just so," Moriarty stated proudly.

"Consulting criminal. Brilliant," Eiric whimpered. She winced at the weakness showing in her voice where she had meant to place sarcasm. For God's sake, she was an actress, pretending and putting on a mask was what she did for a living. Sherlock was concerned at the quiver of her voice. Obviously she wasn't acting, she ha all the signs of pure, unadulterated fear all over her body.

"Isn't it," Moriarty squeezed the hand he still held painfully before leading her down the side of the pool, no longer walking behind her. "No one ever gets to me. And no one ever will."

"I did," Sherlock challenged, cocking the gun.

"You've come the closest. Now you're in my way!" Moriarty didn't sound the slightest bit bothered at having a gun pointed at him and he smiled as he felt Eiric tremble at his tone, her clammy hand vibrating uncontrollably and her other in her hair, frantically pulling at it.

"Thank you," Eitic's pulling increased in desperation at Sherlock's reply to the madman holding her and John hostage.

"Didn't mean it as a compliment."

"Yes you did."

"Yeah, okay, I did. But the flirting is over now, Sherlock. Daddy's had enough now!" He drew out the last sound of the word. "I've shown you what I can do. I cut loose all those people, all those little problems, even thirty million quid just to get you to come out and play. So take this as a friendly warning, my dear, back off. Although, I have enjoyed this little game of ours, playing Jim from IT, playing gay. Did you like the little touch with the underwear?"

"People have died," Eiric murmured. She knew about all the most recent cases from John's blog and chatting with both John and Mrs. Hudson. She had tried to talk about work with Sherlock but she could barely understand a word he said so she just watched as his eyes flashed and the usual stone expression was lost from his face, replaced by passion for his work. These conversations were usually pretty one-sided but Eiric didn't care and just enjoyed the emotions playing across his face.

"That's what people DO!" he shouted in her face. She flinched when Moriarty dropped her hand, rounded on her, and yelled. Sherlock readjusted his grip on the gun.

"I will stop you," and he meant it. This man, brilliant an interesting though he was, was threatening not only his flat mate, but also his childhood friend and unknowing fiancé.

"No you won't."

"You're right." _I'll kill you. _

"You can talk, Johnny boy, go ahead. I let matchstick over there talk, why not the pup?"

"Take it," Sherlock was growing tired of this game. He offered Moriarty the flash drive.

"Hm? Oh, that, the missile plans," he took the drive and kissed it. "Boring. I coulda got them anywhere." He tossed them to the side and into the pool. Sherlock looked pointedly at Eiric and she stepped back just as John hurled himself at Moriarty's back.

"Eiric, Sherlock, run!"

"Ohohoho, good! Very good." John tightened his hold on the man's neck.

"Your sniper pulls that trigger, Mr. Moriarty, then we both go up."

"Isn't he sweet!? I can see why you like having him around, but then, people do get so sentimental about their pets. They're so touchingly loyal," he looked at Eiric over John's shoulder and smirked. He knew that even after the dog had come to, he was still waiting by the building, waiting for his human to get out of the fitness centre. One of his scouts had informed him before he made his grand entrance. "But, oops! You've rather showed your hand there, Dr. Watson."

A sniper dot appeared on Sherlock's forehead. Eiric gave a shuddering sigh of resignation. They were all going to die here tonight. Sherlock Holmes may have been a brilliant man, but he was beaten. She knew it and he should have too.

"Gotcha!" Moriarty chuckled as John released him. He straightens out his rumpled suit and brushed off invisible dirt. "Westwood," he said, pointing AR the suit with a look that a mother would give an amusingly naughty child.

"Do you know what happens if you won't leave me alone, Sherlock? To you?"

"Oh let me guess. I get killed," Sherlock said with facetious glee.

"Kill you, n-no, don't be obvious. I mean, I'm going to kill you anyway, someday. I don't want to rush it though. I'm saving it for something special. No, no no no no no. If you don't stop prying, I'll burn you. I'll burn the heart out of you." Moriarty got up in Sherlock's face, practically kissing the man as he threatened him.

"I have been viably informed that I don't have one."

"But we both know that's not quite true. Well I'd better be off. So nice to have had a proper chat," Moriarty smirked at Sherlock, sliding his eyes between him, John and Eiric.

Sherlock looked at John, panic was evident in the army doctor's eyes but his expression was controlled. He looked to Eiric's tear stained face. She was tugging away at her hair but as soon as she realised Sherlock was gazing at her, she stilled her hands and clasped them in front of her body. She was putting her life and sanity in his hands as he was the only one of the three of them who stood a chance of getting them out of this mess.

"What if I shoot you now, right now?" Sherlock stood a bit straighter as he challenged the consulting criminal. Eiric felt herself deflate. _He's going to get us killed. _

"Well then you could cherish the look of surprise on my face. 'Cuz I would be surprised, I really would. And just a teensy bit...Disappointed. And of course , you wouldn't be able to cherish it for very long. Ciao, Sherlock Holmes," Moriarty turned ninety degrees and exited through the door John had entered through.

"Catch you later," Sherlock enunciated every word carefully and followed Moriarty with the gun. As soon as he was gone, Eiric ripped the black wrist band from her wrist and threw it across the pool and Sherlock dropped his gun, Pausing a millisecond to see if Eiric was okay before going to John and working the bomb vest off of him.

"Alright? Are you alright?" Sherlock asked John frantically. He pulled the coat and vest from his flatmate's shoulders. He slid it across the tile.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I'm fine. Sherlock. Sh-Sherlock!" JOhn called as his knees gave out. Sherlock checked the hall Moriarty had disappeared through. Eiric sank to the ground in front of John, placing her hands on his knees and her forehead on her hands. They sat there and panted while Sherlock paced frantically.

"You okay?" John asked breathlessly

"Me, yeah, fine, I'm fine, fine. That, uh, thing that you, that you did with, um," he cleared his throat, "you offered to do, that was, um, good."

John smiled and Eiric looked up at him, patting his knee before standing and re-doing her hair, watching Sherlock as he grabbed for his stone expression. There seemed to be a piece he couldn't quite find.

"Glad no one saw that."

"Hm?" Sherlock and Eiric questioned John, both raising eyebrows.

"Sherlock, ripping my clothes off in a darkened swimming pool. People might talk," John was holding in a chuckle.

"People do little else," Sherlock chuckled.

"And I would be the pervert, watching you two of you have gay monkey sex. Great," Eiric joined the men in laughter. Then, she noticed the red dot of a sniper on Sherlock's pale neck and John's creased brow. She whimpered.

"Sorry boys! I'm so changeable! It is a weakness with me, but to bea fair to myself, it is my only weakness. You can't be allowed to continue, you just can't. I would try to convince you, but everything I have to say has already crossed your mind," Moriarty's sing-song voice sent chills down Eiric's spine. She moved to stand more behind Sherlock in fear.

"Probably my answer has crossed yours," Sherlock said calmly, pointing the gun at Moriarty. The two stared at each other before Sherlock glanced down and lowered the gun to point at the bomb.

* * *

**Eiric's Car Ride**

_"Get in," he ordered. She obeyed, Mycroft must use a person of the opposite gender for everyone. Ollie hopped in the car and awkwardly stood over her lap._

"Sorry, he's a bit of a lump. Mind if I scoot over?" she asked the dark-haired man. He shook his head and typed away at his phone. Eiric scooted over and ended up pinning the man's arm awkwardly between them. She leaned away and he simply laid his arm on the back of the bench seat, his fingers resting lightly on her shoulder, thumb occasionally brushing her exposed neck. The car ride was awkward.

As they pulled up to what seemed to be a fitness center, the man pulled out a cloth and poured something with a foul smell on it. Before Eiric had time to ask him what he was doing, the cloth was over her mouth and nose. She had only a few seconds to struggle, Ollie barking and lunging before being caught by the driver's fist to the side of his head. Her vision was consumed by black fuzz.

* * *

**A/N**

**I am very disappointed in everyone's lack of reviews on chapter 5, so I hope you enjoyed it and were just too amazed by the beauty and majesty to review. Keep in mind that I do not write action much, so this is my first attempt at a tense situation besides this one short story I wrote about a gold digging murderess. Oh, let me know if that seems like a good case, because I really love that story. So review! we'll need like seven more, as we only have five since I last checked. Think of this chapter as incentive, an early present won't be happening again, my pretties.**


	7. A Study in Spoons

Moriarty and Sherlock were staring each other down, Eiric was growing frustrated, rather than being afraid. This man was crazy, and he just kept pulling her emotions about, leaving her helpless to control her reactions. She was an actress and very accustomed to having complete control over her own body. Suddenly, the introduction to The Bee Gees' song "Stayin' Alive" began to play. Those having their lives threatened looked around, confused. Moriarty briefly closed his eyes and sighed in exasperation. Great, another thing to tick him off.

"D'you mind if I get that?" He asked Sherlock, pointing to his pocket.

"No, no, please. You've got the rest of your life," Sherlock replied nonchalantly. Eiric tapped her foot, crossing her arms.

Moriarty fished his phone from his pocket and answered it calmly. _Asshole, how can you be so calm while you threaten someone's life, _Eiric thought.

"Hello? ... Yes, of course it is. What do you want?" He was growing angry. Eiric shifted away, afraid again as he raised his voice. Brian had yelled at her almost constantly, beginning two weeks before he raped and murdered Sally.

He mouthed 'Sorry' at Sherlock, who sarcastically mouthed 'Oh, it's fine' back at him. Jim rolled his eyes as he listened to the phone, turning away from Sherlock for a moment, then he spun back around, his face full of fury. Eiric took a step back.

"SAY THAT AGAIN!" Moriarty boomed into the phone. Eiric grabbed the back of Sherlock's jacket. He glanced back at her and frowned. John took Eiric's other hand keeping it from getting to her head. He tried to give her as much comfort as he could.

"Say that again, and know that if you're lying to me, I will find you and I will skin you," Moriarty hissed into the phone.

"Snake," Eiric breathed. Sherlock looked round at John. He shrugged.

"Wait," the 'snake' said calmly into the phone. Lowering the bit of plastic, he began to walk forward. Sherlock looked at the bomb jacket fretfully and adjusted the grip on his pistol as the consulting criminal slithered towards them. Moriarty stopped at the jacket and gazed down at the ground thoughtfully before lifting his eyes to Sherlock.

"Sorry. Wrong day to die," he apologized. Eiric was reluctant to believe him, but she felt a few of the muscles in Sherlock's back relax under his jacket. She loosened her grip.

"Oh. Did you get a better offer?" He asked casually. Eiric was amazed and slightly frightened by the sense of calm surrounding him. Moriarty looked down at the phone, then turned and slowly started to walk away. Eiric watched the jacket apprehensively.

"You'll be hearing from me, Sherlock," Moriarty called back. He strolled back around the pool, towards the door through which he originally came, lifting the phone to his ear again. "So if you have what you say you have, I will make you rich. If you don't, I'll make you into shoes," he stated casually into the phone, as if the pair of shoes on his feet right now were another friend of his that had misbehaved. As he reached the door, he raised his free hand and snapped his fingers. Instantly all the lasers focused on the three Baker Street residents vanished. As Moriarty walked through the door and vanished from sight, Sherlock looked around the pool but couldn't see a sign of the retreating snipers. John sighed out a relieved breath. Eiric released her holds on both men and sank to the ground, laying on her back with her legs bent, knees rising into the air.

"What happened there?" Eiric asked breathlessly from her station.

"Someone changed his mind. The question is: who?" Sherlock answered, looking at the collapsed redhead.

"Maybe a woman. He looked like he was mad at a partner, and he did say he was playing gay. Of course, this is all just unprofessional speculation," she panted out her words. Sherlock took her hands, which had been clasped on her stomach, and raised them above her head. She gasped in a deep, satisfying breath and smiled up at him. He looked away and waited with John, who was also breathing irregularly, for her to catch her breath. A thought that he had brushed aside came back into the spotlight.

"How did you get here?" He asked, trying to sound only vaguely curious. He knew that she would have put up more of a fight if it had been a simple 'grab and go' kidnapping.

"Thought Mycroft had finally decided we needed to chat. It was a black car like John described, there was a man in sunglasses typing away at a phone. I didn't even think about it being dark in the car and outside, I just got in when he asked me. We arrived at the fitness centre, and he put some cloth over my face. The driver punched Ollie. Oh God, OLLIE!" And with that, Eiric ran from the room. Sherlock hurried after her while John sighed, not really in the mood for a run.

* * *

They found Ollie laying at the front door of the building. As soon as Eiric was out of the door, she was pounced on by the big bundle of fur. She let out a shriek of laughter as she was pushed to the concrete. Soon, Ollie had bathed her face with his pick tongue and had given up licking his master to nuzzle her shoulder, whining quietly.

"Hey, buddy, it's okay. We're both fine," Eiric whispered, petting his back and kissing his head. Sherlock and John watched the scene. Sherlock was slightly disgusted, but John was smiling fondly. He had always wanted a dog as a boy. Sherlock was more of a cat person, if he had to choose at gunpoint.

"We should probably get going," John suggested, sensing Sherlock's impatience. Eiric nodded and stood, fixing her t-shirt. She quickly gathered Ollie's lead and the trio of humans and Eiric's trusty pup made their way home. At the first floor landing Eiric turned to the men.

"Is it like this every Friday?" she joked. John laughed nervously, but Sherlock was already heading into the flat.

"No, but sometimes it's pretty close. Are you going to be okay? You can stay in our flat if you like, couch is free," he smiled kindly.

"No, I'll be fine. Besides, I've got you sleeping across the hall, and Ollie can always sleep in my bed," Eiric smiled. John suddenly wrapped her awkwardly in his arms. The short man ended up with a face full of hair and shoulder, but he still squeezed her. After a moment of surprise, Eiric reached to give his arm a squeeze and he released her

* * *

Sherlock watched the scene from the doorway, after coming back to see why John hadn't fetched him a cup of tea. He was stunned to see the immediate effect the hug had on both people. Eiric seemed calmer and happier, and John just looked incredibly relieved to see the free smile on her face. Hugs released many chemicals to the brain. Maybe that's where he went wrong with so many tense social situations. He'd rather keep to his normal social tactics.

* * *

Once safely within her door, she sank against it. Ollie sat and leaned against her, whining in what Eiric decided to interpret as sympathy.

"Well, Ollie, how does a bottle of wine and a hot bath sound to you?" Eiric asked.

As she swung her head to smile at her pet, he whined in fear and ran and hid under the kitchen table.

"Thought so," she sighed, hauling herself up. She grabbed a bottle of cheap wine a friend had sent her as a housewarming gift from her almost empty liquor cabinet and headed towards the bathroom, giving Ollie's ears an affectionate ruffle on the way there. She drew a hot bath and tossed her clothes into the hamper.

* * *

After the water was cold and the bottle was empty, a very drunk and nude Eiric made her way into her bedroom, collapsing onto the mattress. Someone cleared their throat.

"OLLIE, töten!" Eiric screamed, not even looking to see who had intruded on her evening.

"Ollie, fuß," Sherlock's baritone rang through the room. Eiric looked to the now snarling Shepard who was glancing between the two, unsure who to obey. Eiric patted her bed. Ollie ran and jumped up, tail wagging. He lay across his master's lap and she hugged him to her, covering anything above her thighs and below her collarbone.

"Hi again," Eiric smiled, waving at him around the hair ball. Sherlock felt a strange sense of loss at her covering herself with the animal.

"Hello. John asked me to check on you," Sherlock said quickly. He pointed over his shoulder at his flatmate's name. Eiric grinned. She had never seen him flustered, if you could call this reaction such.

"Well, tell him thanks, and I'm fine. But, I also believe that I am drunk," she hoisted the empty bottle up, to prove her theory,"so you should probably go before I say something like, 'you're really handsome.'" Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "Or, you have a beautiful mind. Or if I weren't eighty percent sure you have a phobia of vaginae I would try to seduce you."

"You really are drunk," he commented, trying desperately not to smile widely. His face was aching from the effort, though he was sure he only wanted to smile because she thought his mind was beautiful. Not because she found him physically appealing or wanted to engage in that horribly awkward dance of intercourse with him. He was above those things, a more highly evolved human being.

"Actually, if you're going to smile like that, you can stay and keep the monsters of London at bay," Eiric said, seeming worried as she tugged at a strand of hair. She glanced at her windows, seeming to think Moriarty would jump through them. Sherlock shook his head and turned to leave.

"I meant it," Eiric almost cried out, scooting out from under her dog. Ollie groaned and went to lay on the lounge. Sherlock turned, seeing her hold a throw over her body now. "Please, don't leave. I mean, you can, but I would appreciate it if you stayed."

"That's not what you were saying a few weeks ago." Sherlock could feel something stir in a primitive part of his mind. There she was, helpless and nude, practically begging for his company. He shoved this animal into the back garden of his mind palace, into the shed.

"Well, that wasn't my finest hour, and while this certainly isn't all that better..." Eiric looked through her eyelashes at him. He exited the room, softly closing the door behind him. He made his way downstairs and changed into a set of pajamas and his housecoat. Slippered feet went to the second floor. He knocked on the bedroom door this time. It opened after a large thump was heard.

"You don't snore, do you?" he asked a clothed Eiric, who was rubbing her forehead. She laughed.

"No. Do you?"

"I won't be sleeping."

"Oh? Oh, we just got what you probably consider a 'big case' so you're going into your mind palace," Eiric smiled ruefully at him. He cocked his head.

"I read John's blog. I understand the concept, I have my own organization system. The Main Street. Huh, I don't remember telling anyone about that before. Hmmm. Guess you're just one of those people," she smiled warily. She moved back into the room and got under the blankets. Sherlock followed her, stopping to stand by the bed.

"One of those people?"

"One of those people you meet and then just trust immediately. You probably don't have this problem, being able to read a whole person's life story in a second, but us normal people have to learn to trust most people. But not you. It's kind of like I've known you before." A door in the top of her face hotel rattled. The penthouse. The door that never opened. A little boy's voice shouted at her.

_It's me! Eiric, I'm here._

She shook her head, patting the bed. Sherlock cautiously laid down, over the blankets.

"You're not."

"Not what?"

"Normal."

"Thanks," Eiric laughed, sarcasm obvious in her voice. She turned to look at him. In the light from her bedside lamp, her hair glowed and her eyes were cast into shadow. They were heavily lidded and her pupils were the size of saucers. He could smell her, all around him. Sandalwood and jasmine. Both aphrodisiacs. The spice from the red wine drifted from her breath, clouding his thoughts for a millisecond. She sighed and closed her eyes. "Would you mind thinking in the dark?"

"I would prefer it." _So that you're not a distraction._

* * *

He was wrong. Thinking in the dark was a bad idea. He could hear her deep breaths, feel her warmth and the way she shifted every time he did, and her scent rested heavily on his tongue. She didn't snore, but she did murmur in her sleep. Every so often, she would whimper lightly and toss to face the opposite direction. After a few moments of silence and breath holding, he was able to drift into his mind palace, but after what felt like mere minutes, he opened his eyes to find that he was now under the blankets and he had a human practically wrapped around him. His new jumper whimpered lightly and groaned when he stirred. Sunlight was coming through the windows, basking everything in a cold gray light. Eiric opened her eyes warily, before closing them and groaning loudly. She clutched her head. Hungover. Her stomach made a gurgling noise and she quickly unraveled herself from a still stunned Sherlock. This was not the way he had imagined the night going. Keeping her eyes closed, the poor redhead fished a pair of very large, very dark sunglasses from the nightstand. She hurriedly got her feet under her and staggered into the bathroom before bring violently sick. The sounds made Sherlock's stomach turn. He could handle gruesome murders, but vomit made him feel sick. Eiric emerged, toothbrush in her mouth.

"You lied," she said around the foam in her mouth.

"When?" he asked, voice gruff from sleep.

"You do snore."

"You don't respect personal barriers."

"You like to spoon."

"Now who's the liar?" he almost grinned at her.

"Still you. Coffee?"

"Yes."

She disappeared into her bathroom to complete her dental cleansing. She came out again and grabbed last night's bottle from her nightstand. She placed it in the recycling bin under her keyboard and set to making coffee. As they waited, Sherlock and Eiric leaned against the counter as she drank a glass water and Ollie lay on her yoga mat.

"Why do you have a yoga mat in your kitchen?"

"It's the most convenient place to put it. Just like the keyboard and guitar. Plus, on sunny days, this is the best place to catch the light. It's calming, even if Ollie and I end up sharing the sun." Eiric explained, looking up at the man. She almost laughed at the look of confusion on his face.

"Why would you need sunlight to stretch?"

"I prefer to work out in a slightly warmer environment and the sun can provide plenty of it on a clear day." The two looked at one another, one confused and one amused. The coffee maker beeped.

"Pick a mug, any mug," Eiric announced, opening a cabinet behind her and gesturing like a game show hostess. Sherlock reached up and grabbed one without looking. It was an alarming shade of pink and read 'World's #1 Sister.' Eiric's smile faltered before she reached up and selected a blank green mug. The two made their coffee and sat at the dining table, drinking in silence. A knock on the door thudded through the flat. Eiric opened it.

"Hey, I was just wondering if you'd seen... Never mind," a now blushing John hurried down the stairs.

"We have coffee, if you want some," Eiric called. John looked back up and glanced inside pointedly, catching a now interested Sherlock's eye over Eiric's shoulder.

"No, thanks. Not really up for coffee. I'll just see you guys around," he tried to sound nonchalant. He failed.

"What was that about?" Sherlock asked once she had closed the door. John had been growing increasingly odd when he found Eiric and Sherlock chatting.

"He probably thinks you stayed here to comfort me in an...unconventional way," Eiric smiled awkwardly.

"Why would my sleeping here mean I had 'comforted you in an unconventional way'? I just slept at your flat, John does that all the time with his..." it suddenly dawned on Sherlock what John could have inferred.

"Yeah."


End file.
